ing a part of that capacity for good."

"I seem to have been outmaneuvered," said Mrs. Bagley with a worried
frown.

James smiled. "Not at all," he said. "It was just a matter of finding
someone who wanted desperately to have what I wanted to give, and of
course overcoming the natural adult reluctance to admit that anybody
my size and age can operate on grown-up terms."

"You sound so sure of yourself."

"I am sure of myself. And one of the more important things in life is to
understand one's limitations."

"But couldn't you convince them--?"

"One--you--I can convince. Maybe another, later. But if I tackle the
great American public, I'm licked by statistics. My guess is that there
is one brand-new United States citizen born every ten seconds. It takes
me longer than ten seconds to convince someone, that I know what I'm
talking about. But so long as I have an accepted adult out front, running
the store, I don't have to do anything but sit backstage, run the hidden
strings, and wait until my period of growth provides me with a stature
that won't demand any explanation."

From the playroom, Martha came running. "Mummy! Mummy!" she cried in a
shrill voice filled with the strident tones of alarm, "Dolly's sick and
I can't leave her!"

Mrs. Bagley folded her daughter in her arms. "We won't leave," she said.
"We're staying."

James Holden nodded with satisfaction, but one thing he realized then and
there: He simply had to rush the completion of his father's machine.

He could not stand the simpering prattle of Martha Bagley's playgames.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The arrival of Mrs. Bagley changed James Holden's way of life far more
than he'd expected. His basic idea had been to free himself from the
hours of dishwashing, bedmaking, dusting, cleaning and straightening
and from the irking chore of planning his meals far enough ahead to
obtain sustenance either through mail or carried note. He gave up his
haphazard chores readily. Mrs. Bagley's menus often served him dishes
that he wouldn't have given house-room; but he also enjoyed many meals
that he could not or would not have taken the time to prepare.

He did have some faint notion that being freed from the household toil
would allow him sixteen or eighteen hours at the typewriter, but he was
not greatly dismayed to find that this did not work.

When he wrote himself out, he relaxed by reading, or sitting quietly
planning his next piece. Even that did not fill